


Sleep Becalmed

by beeawolf



Series: Damerons all the way down [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i'm not sure if this is how the force works but bear with me, poe is the son leia deserves, porgs in the galley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeawolf/pseuds/beeawolf
Summary: "Poe’s pain engulfs her own stab of grief before she can even fully acknowledge it. It’s overwhelming. She can’t reach him through this murk, can’t see past that blasted mask. She knows he’s there, the bright shining heart of him must still be there, but she can’t reach him.(Poe,whispers her mind,or Ben?)"[Poe dreams. Leia watches over him.]





	Sleep Becalmed

**Author's Note:**

> "Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound  
> In the throat, burning and turning."  
> \- "Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed" by Dylan Thomas
> 
> (Takes place after [Light, more light.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345490) Just a scene that doesn't really fit anywhere else.)

            Poe has slept for two straight cycles before anyone but his droid comes looking for him. Probably that’s partly because all of them are fighting their own demons and injuries, but it’s also partly because Leia had asked Chewie to do whatever he could to discourage anyone going toward the galley.

            As it turns out, ‘anyone’ apparently doesn’t mean Rey or Finn, but that’s no real surprise. They edge cautiously toward her from the corridor about two hours into Poe’s third cycle of sleep, both gazing guilelessly at Leia where she’s sitting on the bench with her datapad.

            She’s been half-watching over Poe for the last couple of hours because – because she can, right now. Because it’s quiet in here, just the porgs and Leia and her sleeping pilot and his absurdly loyal droid. It’s a good place to hear herself think, and there’s a lot of that to be done right now.

            And, yes, all right, because he’s beginning to worry her a little bit.

            Being near him doesn’t actually help with that, though. He just looks so terribly _young_ curled on the narrow bunk, arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying to fend off a nonexistent chill. His dark curls were a mess before, when he’d gone and collapsed on her in the hallway. But they’ve grown wilder now with sleep, tufts sticking out in every direction, and that too somehow lends him a childish look.

            (They all look so young to her lately, though, don’t they?)

            There were no less than seven porgs surrounding him when she got here, and now they seem to have multiplied further – a few nestled up against his shoulders, one tucked behind his knee, another perched on his ribs. It seems only natural. He’s always drawn everyone toward him without even trying, carries with him a sort of innate warmth and gravity.

            So no, she’s not surprised when Rey and Finn show up.  She waves them in.

            “General Organa,” says Finn, hesitantly. “Is Poe...I mean, could we...”

            “Go on,” Leia says, and Rey steps in first, Finn following after, which seems to be the usual pattern. They stand together in the cramped space, looking down at Poe in silence for a moment, and Leia doesn’t need the Force to feel the worry tangling all around them. Even the damned droid has been looking desolate, its domed head drooping.

            “He’ll be all right,” she says to all of them, although she isn’t certain. She’s taking an educated guess based on what she knows about Poe and his stubbornness, the strength of his heart. Based on what she knows about how badly a person can be broken and still come limping back for more.

            Rey and Finn both look at her like they aren’t certain either, though, so she gives them a small smile.

            “He’ll be all right,” she repeats. “He needed a good rest.”

            “I won’t,” Poe says suddenly, voice trembling so that it’s barely recognizable, and they all turn toward him. His eyes are still closed, but he’s twisting around, reaching out toward the ceiling. “I won’t...you can’t...” And then he balks at nothing Leia can see, shoving backward till his shoulders arc up against the wall, porgs scattering in dismay. He takes a thin breath, shudders, and lets out a choked off noise of despair.  

            BB-8 lets out a few low, anxious tones in response, and Leia has heard that particular set of beeps often enough to know that it means simply _Poe_.

            She sees Finn staring down at his own feet out of the corner of her eye, sees Rey just gazing at Poe, frowning like she’s trying to solve this in her head for him. They have such compassion, both of them, despite their circumstances, and the simple fact of their presence here gives Leia the little bit of hope she needs sometimes. She thinks it helps the others, too – here are two survivors, like them, young but tough, brimming with bravery and idealism still shining through impossible hardship and cruelty. It’s no wonder Poe spends so much time with them lately.

            Poe gasps now, says, “You can’t,” again to the empty air above him, and he sounds so fierce and so scared all at once. His fists clench, his jaw tightens, and he breathes shallow and fast.

            [Poe], says the droid again, wobbling back and forth in its distress. It looks around at them, issues another small, quiet set of beeps. [Help Poe?]

            Rey takes a step forward.

            “No,” says Leia, quietly.

            “I want to try to –” Rey starts, and Leia shakes her head.

            “Let me.”

            Rey looks at her, bites her lip, and nods.  

            Leia closes her eyes. She reaches tentatively toward Poe’s mind –

            And recoils, drawing a sharp breath.

            She had expected pain, but this – this is agonizing, horribly disorienting. A swarm of ruined memories and fragmented thoughts pieced back together all wrong, his worst impulses and fears torn out and scattered everywhere like shrapnel. Regret and grief and anger and terror all distilled into something thick and poisonous, sludge seeping beyond the nightmares into waking.

            And presiding over all of it, just as Poe had told her: a dark shadow, a dark gloved hand, a dark mask looming too close, too close, shining silver and reflecting red light.

            ( _Ben._ )

            Poe’s pain engulfs her own stab of grief before she can even fully acknowledge it. It’s overwhelming. She can’t reach him through this murk, can’t see past that blasted mask. She _knows_ he’s there, the bright shining heart of him _must_ still be there, but she can’t _reach_ him.

            ( _Poe_ , whispers her mind, _or Ben?_

            But, of course, she’s made that choice already.)

            Leia takes a steadying breath, and tries again.

            She listens to it, the pain, but this time she’s prepared and she keeps it from touching her. She gathers all the calm and peace she doesn’t feel, weaves it in with all the love she has for him – her most reckless, desperately idealistic pilot – all the love and gratitude she has for Shara Bey, for Kes Dameron, for everyone who’s ever risked anything for the sake of preserving the galaxy’s last spark of hope just a little bit longer. She gathers it all and pours it toward Poe, toward the darkness and the jagged cracks where he’s tried to break his way through.

            It’s not going to chase it all away for him. It’s not going to heal him; he’ll have to do that himself. She has no idea if it’s going to work at all. But it’s worth trying.

            And Poe begins to still, his breathing slowed. He relaxes back onto the bunk. His eyes flicker open, hazy and faraway, but he manages to find her in the room.

            “General?” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

            Her heart can’t take that, not from him, not right now. “Go to sleep, Poe,” she answers, gentler than she’s ever spoken to him before. He doesn’t _want_ gentle, not from her, or at least doesn’t want her to think that he needs it.

            But right now, she thinks, he _does_ need that, and he’s far gone enough that he won’t be complaining. So she adds, “It’s all right.”

            Poe shakes his head slowly back and forth without lifting it and mutters something unintelligible. He closes his eyes for a minute, and then opens them again.

            “General,” he says again. “Do the...do the porgs know?”

            Leia frowns, a little bit thrown. “Know what?”

            Poe gives a vague sweep of his hand. “All of it,” he says, frowning back at her. He appears genuinely concerned.

            She studies him, and hazards, “Yes.”

            “Oh,” he says, relaxing again. “Oh, good.”

            He’s quiet for another moment or two, blinking at the three of them but not appearing to really see, and then he says, “General?”

            “Yes, Poe.”

            He seems to struggle a little more to string these words together. “Do the porgs...do they sense the Force?”

            Rey lets out a quiet, startled laugh, and even Finn looks up and grins, but Poe doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are fixed on Leia.

            “Commander Dameron,” she says.

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Shut your mouth and close your eyes.”

            He looks at her thoughtfully, like he’s mulling the order over first – because of course he is, he’s never one to blindly obey, and isn’t that why she chose him? – and then he sighs and says, “Okay.”

            His eyelids fall shut, and within a minute or two, his breathing evens out again.


End file.
